


Fair In Love And War

by SwashbuckLore



Series: The Proverbs of JBB & SGR [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Feels, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky calls steve stevie, Captain America: The First Avenger, Explicit Language, First Kiss, Love Letters, M/M, Nicknames, Pining, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Wartime, shrinkyclinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-12 10:12:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16871038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwashbuckLore/pseuds/SwashbuckLore
Summary: Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes' sent and unsent wartime letters to one Steven Grant Rogers.> "There's nights when the only thing that gets me to sleep unaccompanied by the screams of the dying is the dreams of your angelfire blue eyes and your spun sugar lips and how my arms would shake if I ever dared to wrap them around your scrawny ribs."





	1. First Letter

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Thirteen Letters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2689091) by [dropdeaddream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dropdeaddream/pseuds/dropdeaddream), [WhatAreFears](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatAreFears/pseuds/WhatAreFears). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This letter is one of the ones that was sent by Bucky to Steve. He addresses Steve by S to protect them both from the censors as letters during WW2 were censored for sensitive or what was deemed inappropriate material. There's your random historical fact for the day.

S,

I've begun a thousand letters to you but I haven’t sent a goddamn one. You remember how you said smoke's like a prayer when I was smokin' on the roof? You ‘n the army keep givin’ me smokes and well I've sent you a thousand prayers cuz I couldn't send these goddamn letters. First, they ration paper over here almost as strict as you useda save paper for sketching on. You said you're still doing it in your last letter. It's those details that keep me alive out here. Second, they’d censor the shit outta me.

The thing is, I dunno what to say to you that won’t be censored. I don't wanna talk bout - God almighty - bout anything here on my end and you already said everything bout your end so that leaves just you 'n me and dammit that's a dangerous topic for me.

But well I gotta go fight again tomorrow and if I don't get blown to bits I gotta fight the day after and I'm so goddamn tired, S. I don't have the strength to march, kill, follow orders AND hold all these words meant for you. They don't leave me lone til I write 'em for you.

First, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ain't sent a letter. I'm sorry I'm ain't there and I'm even sorrier that I's a sinner damned to Hell even before this war gave me a milllion and one sins to pay for. 

I don't act like you're here under my blanket out here. I couldn'ta bore that. The lines out here are too fuckin ugly for an artist. Instead I pretend we're curled on our mattress and it smells like my damn smokes and soap and you 'n me. 

I don't ever act like you're on this Godforgotten side of the ocean. To keep you outta this, I'd walk bare through Hell. I'm already giving my all to keep the war from reaching the U.S. of A. Except it's not my all, it can't be cuz most of me is still yours. Can't give up what I left behind in the scrappy oversized hands of a blind punk. You don't even know how often you carried me through shit and back.

You're saving me out here too. There's nights when the only thing that gets me to sleep unaccompanied by the screams of the dying is the dreams of your angelfire blue eyes and your spun sugar lips and how my arms will shake when I get them around your scrawny ribs again. I'll just listening to you breathe without the fight for one more day.

Your forehead to mine, sweetheart. Just us.

-Buck


	2. Second Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > "You'd die a hundred times a day out here, Stevie. And I'd die if you did."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This letter is unsent. Bucky just needed to get it out. 
> 
> Shout out to thepinupchemist for being an excellent beta. If you want Stucky stuff that's fly as effin hell, head over to their page. Seriously. *Worth* a read.

Hey, Steve.

I ain’t sending this letter. Don’t know why I’m writin’ it down cept it’s bouncin’ ‘round my head like shrapnel and I gotta get it out.

It was motherfuckin hard to walk along with you under my arm and sleep with you in that rickety bed and sit beside you on the fire escape summer nights while you drew. All I wanted at home was you and the time to do every damn thing I ever dreamed of doing to you. But I was scared. Cuz yknow, you had an artist's eye, saw the lines brushed into the world but you couldn't see the curves carved into my heart. At least I never knew if you did. And I shouldn'ta hoped you would. Christ I shoulda been so happy at just being your pal.

It sounds like a line I'd give a dame, but I say your name every day, hold it in my mouth like it's a square of hidden away D ration chocolate, Stevie. And it's true. Just your name is fresh 'n clean 'n sweet in the middle of all this blood and grime and smoke. It keeps me alive and more importantly a little sane.

It's worse than fuckin Hell out here. There're blown apart bodies and always the damn smell of blood which doesn't come outta your shitty uniform even if you scrub your hands raw. There's cold that's into your bones. Everything is dark, even in the middle of the goddamn day, it's like death left a blanket over us. The brass tells us what to bloody well shoot at and I suppose that's the right thing to do but when one of my guys gets shot all I can think bout is their girl and their ma and their buddies. The Jerries might be fuckin monsters but they've got those too. Right and wrong ain't black and white, and you're a black and white kinda guy. You get a goddamn idea, you go for it. You'd die a hundred times a day out here, Stevie. And I'd die if you did.

I'm so glad I coulda cried you weren't eligible for war every time you went in, you punk. you'd hate me for sayin' it to your face but fuck it all I mean it. I was terrified when you tried. You're a spitfire and an idiot and a stubborn bastard but then you're from Brooklyn and you're my Brooklyn guy and Jesus fucking Christ I wouldn't change you if it meant ending the war tomorrow.

Your letters are coming from all over the place now with the shit censored outta them an I'm worried bout you dammit. You say you got a government job but I don't know bout one the needs you to move all over cept an army job. You're still ineligible for an army job. Right? God I hope they didn't accept you as a secretary or something stupid cuz I know you and I know you'd manage to get outta safety and onta the front anyways and I need you to be safe.

I'm imagining the worst, that you been kicked out and's trainhoppin to find somewhere to live. I'm sending you a lotta my army pay and you better be using it to stay alive, punk. Besides, I was supposed to bring all the stupid over with me.

Mebbe you gotta war propaganda job. You draw like it shoulda been in a museum so mebbe someone finally saw how good you were. I hope so. I hate how they censor the shit outta your letters but I preciate your doodles on the back, specially the ones of us as boys. You never take enough time on your face though.

If I was an artist I'd draw you and paint you and sculpt you a thousand times so no one could ever forget you - how beautiful you are. I'd immortalize every fuckin’ bone in your body, an damn me to hell if you want, but I'd spend hours on your face, each sharp cheekbone, that big nose you got broken so much, you punk, the proud jut of your chin, the unafraid tilt of your head, the angelfire crackling in your sure eyes like you were gonna change the world, your soft gold hair falling over a pale forehead that's never gonna bow to no one, your strong eyebrows. If I ever tried to tell you that you'd never let me get through it. You'd kick me or somethin or you'd be as red as when you sit in the sun shirtless - Irish idiot - or you'd run til the streets swallowed you. Mebbe all three.

I'm rambling, Stevie, and now it's my watch so off I go. Just be safe. Be safe, Steve. Please.

\- Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always appreciate constructive criticism :)


	3. Third Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in the notes at the bottom. This letter is set aside to be sent if Bucky didn't survive Azzano.
> 
> (thepinupchemist is the greatest. Thank you!)

Everything hurts, S. From my feet to my forehead.

We're going at Azzano tomorrow. They’ll censor that. I don’t give a damn. I've got a horrible sick ugly feeling bout it. We don't have enough men, we're 30 miles behind enemy lines, and we're all dead tired. If we go in we're just going to be dead, but orders is orders. If I don’t come back, they’ll send this to you with my personal effects since you’re listed as my next of kin. So.

I dream bout you. Cept the other night it was fuckin awful. I'd come home and you were on the couch drawing. Problem was, I'd come home from this goddamn war an I was all bloody and S, the blood was dripping offa me but you just looked up, smiled, and I reached out for you but every place we touched you started bruising and bleeding but i didn't see til I'd hugged you god fuckin dammit. But you were still smiling at me. That sweet smile that you use when you're so happy you're quiet at last. You smiled until blood was seeping between your teeth and then you were coughing up blood, God there was so much blood. I woke up. I wanteda cry but the tears weren't there so I just tried to make my goddamn sobs silent. My whole body was shakin til it was time to get a march on the day. 

I don't know if you're smiling or not. I haven't got a letter from you in too long and you didn't sound real happy in the last few. I've read your letters to shreds, pal. I'm worried about you. That's not xactly a new thing but now i can't check on you - look at you - touch you.

You're my end of the line and beginning and whole stretch of it really, and I'm ready to go home to you. I'm scared too. I'm not the Bucky you knew. I'm bad, S, real bad. I don't know if I've done anything right since holding you that last night. Your chin gainst my shoulder, my arms around you but not enough, not like how I wanted it. If we'd done what I wanted that night, we'da ended up in deep shit.

I'da started by asking you for a dance and I'da held you so close, sweetheart. I don't deserve you that close and I don't know if you'da let me, but that's how I imagine it, you tucked gainst me, your edges so right gainst me.

Then once you was all laughing and breathless from dancin', I'da kissed you all the ways you were made to be kissed. We'da found an alley or a dark corner and I'da kissed you til I coulda tasted the sunlight that shines inside of you.

After that I'da taken you home, my arm wrapped over your thin sweet shoulders and as soon as we was inside the door at our place, I'da got your coat and shirt off them shoulders and I'da worshipped your neck and shoulders with hot kisses to keep you from catchin' cold, my hands gentle and greedy all over your ribs and back, tracing each knob of your spine like I wanted to memorize 'em.

And I woulda taken such good care of you that night, made you fall apart in my hands, reveling in each shaky breath and quiet moan and the way your clever fingers would run through my hair and how you'd laugh and hiss at me, hiss my name like it was the only word you could remember.

I shoulda done all that back on that night. I shoulda been lovin' on you 'stead of all those gals that don't mean a damn now, not when you're the one keeping me alive. What if it only ever happens in my head now?

Life is so fragile, S. Mine and yours. Take care of yourself, sweetheart, just long enough for me to come back and start lovin on you. 

Please. Cuz I love you.

-Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a graphic mention of blood and a vague innuendo towards homosexual sex. Take care of yourselves if either of those would bother you.


	4. Fourth Letter

Mary, Joseph and Jesus motherfucking Christ, Steven Grant Rogers i'm so pissed at you I can't see straight and not sure if I'm seeing straight anyways because now I look up to meet your eyes and goddamit Rogers why?

You was beautiful, Stevie. Tiny as hell and bony all over everywhere and the most miraculous thing I ever saw. You was born with a soul like the fiercest kinda sunshine and i useda burn my eyes just lookin at you. And I liked it, liked the sunburnt sting inside of me from bein' with you.

I used to wonder if I was some kinda broken for feeling the way about you, but your letters and our memories are the times I been whole.

You were my one piece that's never changing. Cept you did and I didn't even get a telegram about it, Stevie. You 'joined the army' and my Stevie went MIA. I miss you so hard it burns in my body when you're in a tent ten feet away. And that breaks me a little bit. Specially since you said it was permanent.

Maybe I am all broken and even more wrong than I was before. God above and devil below knows I might have cracked. I won't tell the army and I won't tell my company and I won't tell my family, but Stevie, I think they broke me something awful. I was sliced til all that was left was a series of numbers. And you were the oversized hands holding together all my sliced off pieces but now everything's different and Stevie, Stevie, it was your scrawny ass that kept me from shattering under Zola's fuckery those three days I was strapped down. I told you, your angelfire eyes and your sugar sweet lips and the hope of a goddamn hug. You left me human during the war before but you kept me alive during the torture.

I'm scared. You're a leader and a warrior now with a body like a tank and a mind like a weapon. My Stevie was smart but he couldn'ta memorized a map with a glance and he didn't spend his time in war councils. You don't got a skull for a face but I'm scared that they cut open your heart and ripped out your sunbright soul and replaced it with a red white and blue star. I'm scared they stripped away everything they didn't need. Redskull said you'd left humanity behind and yknow what? I believe him. You're so perfect now it screams at me cuz I loved your imperfect self.

Don't leave me. Don't drop me like you dropped your dreams and common sense when you got changed. Don't be the red white and blue soldier, face of a nation. Be mine again.

-B


	5. Fifth Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, @ thepinupchemist!

You’re right here so I don’t know why I’m writin’ this again, cept I need to. Since I obviously can’t say it to your fuckin’ beautiful face.

Rogers, cuz I don't know if you fit Stevie anymore,

You was ready to blow yourself up for me. You went behind enemy lines, you destroyed a HYDRA base, you rescued the 107th, but after Redskull left and stuff started goin' up in flames, you wanted me to leave you behind.

You're a helluva a lot bigger, Rogers. You're a helluva a lot more commanding and you're so earnestly serious. It's like you got your holy face on all the time. You got a real uniform now, just what you always wanted. When you talked to the commanding officers, you call me Sergeant Barnes stead of Bucky. But Rogers, you got the same angelfire eyes and they're bright and they're brave and when you look at me, I see the whole world in them. A world of memories and fights and words. You got the same eyes as that little guy in Brooklyn.

You got the same eyes, Stevie.

You're crazy for being happy in the middle of war, but you got the same heart. Doin' what's good and right, no matter the cost. Cept I'm pissed that you went - all by your lonesome, you bastard - and saved me. I'm not good and I'm not right. I'm all dark and busted up inside.

Your outfit is dumb as shit and I'm never gonna let you forget it, but I'll walk beside you in that stupid getup as you head back at HYDRA since you're too shitheaded to walk away from a fight. They told me I could go home after the torture I went through, but I'll stay. I gotta cover your six cuz I'm gonna save your ass no matter what size it is.

The idiots I call my men say we're headed to the bar. Signing off,

Sergeant Buck


	6. Sixth Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comment and the likes I've gotten so far. You encourage me to keep writing. All positive or constructive feedback fuels my muse!
> 
> This letter and the last were unsent. Bucky just wrote them and kept them.

Stevie, you little shit. 'She might have a friend.'

I promised I'd follow you into the jaws of death and HYDRA, broken or not, and I will. I swear I'm gonna be at your side til death do us part.

I'll even keep quiet as you turn those angelfire eyes on that Carter. You found yourself a dame, and she's a bombshell. She's loyal too. I should be prouda you.

I'm not.

Maybe I'm the one who got ripped open and carved down to the essentials. There's always damnable numbers in my head now and you. Back home's gone all to shit on me but you're clear as the summer sky in the country. You're always clear to me.

Steve. I can't forget when you broke through goddamn fog and pain. I couldn't protect you - you protecting me, helping me. Your big arms holdin' me against you side and your voice calm and steady in the face of explosions.

Then you told me to fuckin' leave. I barely knew your body but I couldn't leave you behind. Even in the confused fearful pain, I knew. There's ain't nothin' that can change you to me, not even 200 pounds of muscle and 2 feet. But you told me to go, Stevie, and I watched my worst fears over 20 feeta flames. I was gonna lose you right in fronta me and there was nothin' I could do. Holy God above.

Now you're gonna be captain of a team on the front, supporting your country, fightin' the good fight. You're gonna be in danger. What happens when I can't shoot fast enough?

If I lose you.

Stevie.

If I lose you.

Lose you to a dame or Nazis or the fires of war? I can't, Stevie. You're all that's left. Those oversized hands are still carryin' half my heart and soul. Zola took mosta the resta both. Nobody else knows Steve Rogers, just the Captain, so I guess I gotta piece of you too. Tiny Steve is mine. I'll protect and follow that part of you, and I'll try to be the best I can for the parts of you that aren't all mine.

-Buck


	7. Seventh Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unsent

Steve,

What do you mean, I was a goddamn reckless bastard? What do you call yourself, Captain I’m-Invincible? We been fightin’ for weeks and I’ve seen you closer to death more ‘n me. I’m the one who picks of the guys before they can getcha to that state.

You keep asking how I am. I’m doin’ my best, but I’m hungry all the time. I could eat a goddamn herda horses and I even wanna some days. Rations ain’t enough, what the boys hunt down ain’t enough, what I manage to get off the cooks ain’t enough.

On toppa that, my body hurts. There’s somethin’ in my bones that feels like it’s tryna break me even more. I feel like shit. I’m a fuckin’ warzone, full of tiny exhausted soldiers and the bang of gunfire and the thunder of explosion after explosion. I dunno what’s fuckin’ wrong with me.

I want, too. Since I got back, you ‘n I have been sharin’ a tent, and it’s great cuz you’re a human furnace instead of a midget icicle, but Stevie, I’m not blind. I been wantin’ you since you entered my world. You useda be all self conscious about your beautiful body, afraid that I woulda laughed or somethin’ stupid cuz I could count your ribs. Now you’re shameless about stripping down to the essentials in front of me. What am I gonna do, pal?

Cuz if you don’t stop, punk, I’m gonna wait til you get on that cot then I’m gonna straddle you and pin you down so hard and kiss you til you can’t breathe. And while you catch your breath, I’ll kiss down your throat, getting you to gasp, marking you as mine. If you haven’t pushed me off by then, I’ll use my hands to trace every incha your goddamn gorgeous face and I’ll follow those lines with my tongue cuz I wanna taste you so bad, bud. Then I’ll probably die out of disbelief that I finally did it.

If we ain’t on a mission, I can’t keep my thoughts focused. You’re all there is, all there ever will be for me.

-Buck


	8. Last Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks @ thepinupchemist :)
> 
> Unsent letter.

Stevie.

Your lips were so much sweeter than I’d hoped for. You found my letter from before Azzano - and - wowza. I’da talked prettier to you years ago if I’da known, sweetheart.

You hadda go to some meetin’ about HYDRA or strategy, but I can wait for you. I’m a sniper, I know howta wait. 

Talk about an ambush, though. Stevie, punk, I barely got into the tent ‘fore you descended. It’s a good thing you swallowed my words, otherwise our neighbors woulda hear me swearing. Christ, Stevie. Je-sus Christ. 

I didn’t dream it’d be that wonderful. I’ve kissed before, even kissed other people I goddamn pretended was you, but nothing held a fuckin’ candle to this. I didn’t see firecrackers or shit like that. I stared straight into the best and brightest guy I knew, and Everything that I am fell for you.

I’m listening for your footsteps and I think I hear ‘em. Out of a million footsteps, I’d know yours. Specially when they’re headed for me.

Yours - yours - always and wholly yours -

Bucky


End file.
